


Common Language

by Charity_Angel



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Awesome Karen Page, Braille, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Gen, Gratuitous non-wearing of glasses, those are actually tags that already existed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: In which Matt realises his friends are even more awesome than he already thought.





	Common Language

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceterisparibus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceterisparibus/gifts).



> Translations are hoverable, or at the bottom if you can't hover.

Karen wasn’t their secretary any more, but she still helped out booking their appointments, answering the phone, and so on when she wasn’t working on cases. Things were getting easier – their varying secrets were out in the open, and they were communicating more.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Matt to realise that the emails Karen sent to both him and Foggy came through in Grade 2 Braille files. His translation program was good, but it wasn’t that good. Especially since it couldn’t account for typos, so he usually just read things as a direct transcription in the standard 26-character alphabet. The fact it was in Grade 2, typos and all (bless Karen)… That… that implied that Karen was typing the emails in…

Surely not?

Especially since there was only one attachment on the email. It was… His fingers faltered as his display told him the file type – it was an .abt file – one that didn’t store standard text but was Braille-specific. He never really paid much attention to file types unless they didn’t open properly because someone had been foolish enough to send him a picture, so he hadn’t noticed before. And the email had been sent to both him and Foggy, which meant that Foggy was reading the same file as he was. Exactly the same, if visually rather than on a screen-reader.

What the hell?

He decided to test them. Not via the computer because there were too many ways to cheat with that, but he had other methods: he dusted off his mechanical notetaker and brought that into the office the next morning. The machine was clunky and loud, but it was a hell of a lot faster and easier to use than a stylus, and produced Braille faster and cheaper than the embosser they had saved up for months to equip the office with. And the next time he answered the phone, he typed out a note for Foggy and left it on his desk.

When Foggy returned bearing coffee (a habit that at least stopped Karen from making it), he called his client back almost right away. He definitely hadn’t had enough time to look up a translation: he had read the note as quickly as Matt would (probably faster since Matt would have at least needed to find it on his desk first).

Once he was done on the phone, Foggy crossed his office and came to stand at Matt’s door. “Not seen that bad boy in a while,” he commented, gesturing to the notetaker. “Did you bring it just to see if I could read it?”

Matt averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah.”

“Took you long enough.”

“When did you…?”

“Dude, I lived with you for nearly five years – of course I learned. We got our bills in Braille.”

That was true – everything to do with each crummy flat they had rented together had always been in Braille, so that Matt knew what he was signing or paying. Foggy had enjoyed citing ADA to reticent landlords. It had just never occurred to Matt that the documents had not been provided in both print and Braille. Maybe some of them had been.

“And Karen?”

“We _still_ get our bills in Braille,” Foggy pointed out. “Plus, she figured that it would be better if we could all read the same text, so she learned online. There’s even apps for it now. They’re good for sighted people, but you wouldn’t be able to use them. And then we downloaded some of the software you use so we can do stuff properly. I still kind of struggle typing like you do with the six keys, but I think I’m getting better. I make less mistakes, anyway.”

Matt could sympathise with that, although he had learned to type the other way around – he had learned with a Brailler first, then on a full keyboard. Going from one to the other was tricky and honestly he preferred not to. As Foggy had noted, he still used the keys on his decidedly more modern electronic notetaker rather than the laptop keyboard if he could get away with it.

“Karen’s getting herself certified, by the way, so she can bring some extra money in,” Foggy added. “There’s always people out there looking for a transcription service, and someone who can handle the legal jargon is going to be a blessing to the profession.”

That was true, to a certain extent, but it left Karen sounding more and more like an assistant again rather than her doing what she was good at.

“You’re over-thinking it,” Foggy told him. “There probably won’t be that much business from it – there’s actual companies out there who employ more than one person certified to transcribe. But, once word gets round that we can provide accessible services in-house…”

“Then we’ll be flooded with blind clients who can’t afford to pay us, rather than just the usual clients who can’t afford to pay us,” Matt noted wryly. “So are you getting certified in ASL too, so we can do the whole spectrum?”

He was being sarcastic, and he knew Foggy knew it. But Foggy was not going to be so easily deterred.

“Not a bad idea. Since you can’t do it. Can you?”

Matt snorted, amused even as he was touched that Foggy thought to check. “Even if that wouldn’t lead to people asking far too many questions, no, I can’t. I can sense broad movements, but there’s too much going on in smaller gestures that I can’t see properly. It’s like… I can hear that you’re fiddling with that pen in your hand, but I can’t see it.”

Foggy stopped fiddling with the pen. “Sorry.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I didn’t… it’s fine, Foggy. It’s okay.”

“You know, I think I might have liked it better when I couldn’t see you do that,” Foggy retorted.

Matt grinned at him. “Yeah, but Karen complains if I hide behind the glasses when there’s no-one else around and, no offence, but I like the rewards I get for not pissing her off.”

Foggy threw up his hands. “Gross. I did not need to hear that. I… am totally over talking to you about your sex life.”

Matt sighed. “Can we go get drunk and just do it anyway, sometime? Because I miss that.”

“It’s Karen. It’s weird. And we didn’t talk – you used to show off and I lived vicariously through your showing off.”

That was, admittedly, true – to a point. Matt had never been above playing up his good looks and/or his disability to attract women, and Foggy had enjoyed being his wingman. Now neither of them had need of a wingman, since they were both blissfully ensnared by their respective girlfriends. Matt didn’t even go out looking for trouble that often any more. Hell’s Kitchen was finding a new equilibrium, and that involved the police a lot more than it involved Daredevil these days. He still showed his face every now and then, just to remind any would-be criminals that he was around, but on the whole he was enjoying an entirely different kind of life. With Karen, with Foggy and Marci, and even occasionally with a client who could afford to pay them.

“Can we just go out and get drunk, just the two of us?” Matt offered as a counterproposal. “We haven’t done that for ages.”

“Sounds good. I’ve got to get back to Mrs Ellis’ case, but we should do that. Tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

Once Foggy had retreated to his office, Matt pulled the machine back over and tapped out a second message:

**Author's Note:**

> Because there's no way Karen and Foggy never learned to read Braille, fight me
> 
> * * *
> 
> 1 Foggy, Mrs Ellis called for you. Can you call her back? I don't know enough to talk to her.  
> 5552594
> 
> 2 Karen, Foggy told me you’re learning. I know you probably didn’t say because you wanted me to figure it out for myself, but you have to remember I’m a blind idiot.  
> But I’m YOUR blind idiot, and this is something I can help with. I’m heading out but I’ll see you later. Come round and I’ll cook for you.  
> Love, Matt xx


End file.
